Eclipse: The Mad Circus
by Vel Vitrum
Summary: There are three paths in which one can take in order to survive. Weapon: giving up your will. Human: giving up your pride. Monster: giving up your freedom. In a world where a new species causes fear and tragedy, a little girl finds comfort in a group of terrorists. One in which she discovers the secrets of her kind. Nefas: any of their choices will leave them in despair.
1. Prologue

**XXX+ The Mad Circus +XXX**

* * *

_**...Again...**_

_**"**_**L_e_t _m_e _t_e_l_l_ y__o_u _a_ s_t_o_r_y. I_t_'s n_o_t_ q_u_i_t_e _a_ f_a_i_r_y _t_a_l_e_****."_ -Unknown_**

* * *

It was everywhere.

An ugly sight.

Unbearable and sickening. One single step and he would be walking on a corpse. What made things worse was that he knew whose corpse this was.

Fingers severely cut off.

His hand fell from his face, almost like a doll's arm falling back. His face was pale, but no one could notice under the dim light. In fact, the light made the sight look even worse. It made the room look so...vindictive.

Arms drenched with deep lines of red.

Why? He asked himself. How...? This wasn't supposed to happen. Not again. He didn't wait just for this. The punishment this time was too extreme, too drastic. He was so close. Where did he go wrong?

Leg halfway from being completely torn.

It was all over. It acted like paint, pasted on the walls as if it was a taunting decoration. He saw her face, as well as the rest of her body. It was almost unrecognizable. The monster who did this didn't even give her the chance to close her eyes. The terrified eyes that looked back at him. They accused him, as if asking him, why? Why didn't he keep his promise? Why wasn't he by her side? Didn't he say he was going to be by her side?

A hand embedded into the wall.

The truth was that he actually _was_ by her side. He just didn't focus enough. He wasn't concentrated on the real enemy. He lost sight of himself...again.

It was all a failure.

But where did it all go wrong?

Was it the injection? Was the heart too forceful on her? Could her body actually handle it?

Was she lying when she said it didn't hurt?

No...None of that was right…

"Len," A monotone voice echoed, snapping him out of his reverie. He would have almost attacked the person if it wasn't for him realizing two dreadful things.

The voice belonged to his most loyal friend. The most sickening part was that he was about to kill her, about to become an insane murderer and traitor.

The second thing...

"How long are you going to stain your hand in that thing?"

Instantly, he removed his hand from the inside of the monster's throat. Blood spurted right at his cheek, sticking to his skin like glue. He didn't bother to rub it off. That warm feeling caused a satisfaction within him.

It was disgusting.

The brown eyes of the monster used to resemble the eyes of a little girl. Dark brown hair, innocent smile, barcode on her forearm. The only issue was the look in her eyes and the blood decorating her skin and white dress. That was the problem. It was this _thing _that brought this upon him. He turned his gaze towards the corpse in front of him. Her eyes were still open.

That was the only thing in his mind as he took a step forward, away from the monster, away from his loyal companion. The splashes beneath his feet made his stomach churn. He should be used to this, as this has happened so many times. But he couldn't convince himself. When he looked down, a void was created. He would never get used to this, no matter how many times the scene replayed, he wouldn't ever forget this.

He was walking on her blood.

He was nearing her, and in this close proximity, he could see the tear tracks on her face. His fingers almost flinched when he touched her. Maybe it was because he thought she would wake up any minute and give another smile. Or maybe it was because her skin was colder and paler, wet with the mixture of her blood and tears.

He gently slid her eyelids down, a goodbye never crossing his mind. He stayed in that kneeled position until his companion spoke once more.

"Enough is enough."

He abruptly stood up, turning to get out of the room with the stench of blood. The blonde turned her head towards him, seeing his form through the threshold of the door.

"What you're doing will only hurt more."

The warning has fallen on deaf ears.

The urges were far too great to resist.

He had to do it again.

* * *

**"T_h_i_s _s_t_o_r_y, y_o_u _s_e_e, d_o_e_s_n'_t _h_a_v_e _a_ h_a_p_p_y _e_n_d_i_ng. _I_t_'s_ a_l_l _a_b_o_u_t _A_l_i_c_e _a_n_d _h_e_r_ b_e_a_u_t_i_f_u_l _y_e_t _d_e_a_d_l_y_ l_i_t_t_l_e _v_e_i_l." -Unknown_**


	2. Lesson I

**XXX+ Lesson I +XXX**

* * *

She was considered a curse.

Someone who shouldn't have existed.

Someone that everyone despised.

Everyone at her school hated her. She was bullied but she never gave them the satisfaction of her tears. The teachers loathed her. They sneered at her. They never looked at her in the eye and even if they did, they would get away from her in case she cursed them for the rest of their lives.

Some of them hit her. Some of them did it secretly as to not ruin their positions in life, yet some of them didn't even care and hit her in front of everyone else. Those who did, never got in trouble, and because they did it in front of everyone, many of her peers did the same. They all thought it was fine. They all said the same response in their reason for hurting her. "The teacher did it, so we could too!"

There were rare times when the adults would ask why they were hurting the little girl. It didn't mean they would stop them altogether. Nonetheless, she liked that type of person. If they scolded their children, she would smile at them. But she stopped smiling when they avoided her as well.

The little girl would always be the last one to be picked up. Her teachers didn't want to wait for her. They said she would be fine on her own. She would be covered in bruises by the end of the day. One would think, something was wrong with this picture. A girl not even 5 years old, injured and swollen, waiting to be picked up behind the school where it was darker. No one could have missed the look on her face and the scars on her skin, yet the little girl was left alone.

It didn't matter though, because her parents would only add more rather than ask what happened. Sometimes she would have to walk back home because they would forget about her.

This was one of those days.

The little girl would try to curl herself up while she walked. It was always dark and cold, the wind biting her skin since she had no sweater. She was sure monsters were hiding in the shadows too. She would try to walk faster even if the pain in her legs worsened by the scratches her schoolmates left her. But the little girl kept walking home, because really, she had nowhere else to go.

Every single person passed her, either slowing down to see her injuries or speeding up just to avoid the cursed girl. None of them stopped to ask if she was alright. No one asked her if she was lost in this big town.

When a couple of kids ran towards her direction, they pushed her out of the way. The little girl nearly lost her balance on the edge of the sidewalk, frozen when she saw a car closing in on her.

No one pulled her back.

Maybe the pain would go away.

But the little girl knew it wasn't going to end just like that. She knew the moment the black eyes appeared, the sight looking like a face with no eyes. The grin made her shiver. Her touch even colder than snow. The moment her skeleton like fingers grazed her skin, the little girl fell backwards and crashed into a passing stranger. The man smacked her away and left her on the ground, scolding her for her impolite actions. When the man finished, leaving spit near her feet, the little girl picked herself up on shaky legs and continued her walk home.

This time the girl didn't notice the way her arms wrapped around herself. She didn't notice the way her vision was getting hazier with each stumbling step. All she could focus on was the way the black eyes followed her, watching her every movement with a foreign feeling lumping her throat.

She didn't let the tears fall. She stayed strong. The only reason behind this wasn't for herself. She stayed strong for her nonexistent parents waiting for her smiles and hugs.

The little girl knew what to expect when she came home. They would call her a word, a word she's heard from all over the world, from the TV to the school and in random places too. She's heard the word so many times, but she never knew the meaning of it. Was it bad? Was it good? The little girl didn't know.

"There you are, you fucking Nefa." Her thirteenth father sneered at her, slamming the door closed when she went in. He pushed her towards the table, forcing her to sit down.

"Oh, the twat's home?" Her thirteenth mother drawled. The woman put down her cigarette and blew smoke in the little girl's face. She cringed at the smell, coughing harshly in her small hands. "Good timing too. I just caught your father doing some fucking around behind my back."

"Well then, you shouldn't have adopted a Nefa. Have you ever heard of the _news,_ wench?"

"Oh so it's my fault now? Then why didn't you fucking say anything when we were over there in the orphanage, dumbass!"

The little girl could only watch the two shout at her, and when they were tired of shouting at her, they would shout at each other. She never moved from her spot on the table.

It was a dining table where they were supposed to eat and talk to each other. But there wasn't any food. There was no family to eat with either.

She almost forgot that she wasn't supposed to sit with her foster parents. It wasn't allowed. If they caught her eating with them, she would be punished, but it didn't matter right now, because instead of a dish, there was broken pieces of glass. Instead of food, there was a puddle of her own saliva mixed with red, and instead of the mother and father sitting in front of her, her blurry eyes met nothing.

"Why can't you do anything right, you stupid child?!"

There were no chairs on the other side of the table. They were thrown at her and broken apart by the impact. She could feel the bruises forming on her back. She could feel the splinters in her feet.

She was still afraid to stand up.

"Don't shout at her, you imbecile! It's your fucking fault this happened!"

Her pale eyes could only stare at them, hitting each other, trying to make the other bleed. Every time she blinked, one of them would crash into the wall or plant the other's head on the stove.

It was like she was moving her scars into them.

"Don't do that." She would whisper. But of course, neither of them heard her.

"You deserve this!" Her father said, slamming her mother's head on the edge of the table.

"Please stop." She would mutter, rocking herself back and forth to calm herself down.

Her mother elbowed her husband and while he keeled over, she stepped back. She stumbled, holding herself on the table with blood dripping on the floor. She touched her forehead, a dazed look passed on her eyes.

It was as if she couldn't recognize where she was.

The woman ran a hand through her uncombed hair, red staining the tip of her fingers. She kicked her husband and ran over to the kitchen drawers, saying the next words with disgust. "I fucking hate you. I fucking hate you so much."

"She won't do it." The little girl would chant. "She won't do it. She always says this. Always but she never does it."

The woman flinched and looked at the little girl. She snarled and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her out of the chair and throwing her on her fallen husband. "What are you muttering about, eh? Are you cursing me, demon? Huh? Am I the bad one that has to go through hell?! What about him, stupid witch?! Do something to him or I'll fucking kill you too!"

"P-papa." She would call, but the man under her would only glare at her and grab her arm. He would throw her in front of him and use the little girl as a shield, and she wouldn't even realize until the knife would be near her head.

"Tryin' to use her, bitch?" He spat on her face, making the girl close her eyes shut and duck her head. "One of those brats did the same and look what happened to him! He's in a fucking coma, bloody idiot!"

Then she would see those eyes again. The ones that were nothing but black. She would always appear in every one of her homes, and she would offer her hand, but the little girl was always scared to take it. Her hands weren't warm. They weren't comforting.

It scared her so much that she would rather face the knife in her mother's hands.

"Don't make me go." She would say to the black eyed girl. "Don't make me go. I don't want to. It's dark there. What if I can't wake up?"

Her parents would know when 'she' appeared because they would think the little girl was talking to herself. They would think the black-eyed girl was a fake. That she was just making her up to excuse her actions when really, it was only her imaginary friend, the one that would never leave her side. Never, ever, that's what the black eyes promised.

"Where is she?!" Her father asked hysterically, instantly pushing her away.

The woman clenched her knife and carefully circled around them. "The girl's back again, eh? See, I told you this would work. Now give me the fucking priest." She said sardonically.

"Please, don't make me go!" She would beg, clinging onto their legs only to be kicked away. "She'll hurt you! She'll do something bad to y–mmph!"

"Fuck you. You're even worse than they said, Nefa."

There it was again. That word.

What did it mean?

_"Who knows?"_

The black eyed girl was coming closer.

"Tighten the ropes and tape her mouth too. She'll bite like a dog."

She was smiling.

The two harshly pulled her to the closet, ignoring the tears gushing out of her eyes and the pleas muffled by the tape. The two stared at her, eyes widening in fear as her own world was turning darker and darker. She kicked on the closet door, kicking and kicking until she realized they weren't letting her out.

But the little girl needed to get out. She _had _to. The black eyed girl was smiling again.

It was bad when she smiled.

The front door of the house slammed open. The little girl didn't know who went in or out. Was it someone else? Please let it be someone else. She didn't want anyone to leave her here. It was dark, and anything can happen in the dark.

Because every time she smiled...

"Who are you?! What do you want?!"

"W-We'll call the police!"

_"Hey."_

There was banging on the doors. The room was colder. The little girl would hear the phone's dead dial tone. The line would go on and on, making the sound stick to her head.

"No! NO! Don't come any closer!"

"We shouldn't have done it." She would hear her father mutter. "We should never have taken her in. She's a Nefa, a-and Nefas, t-they shouldn't be allowed to exist. Why do they even live here?! The king should've just killed them all!"

_"Let's play a game?"_

She would hear the black eyed girl ask the same question over and over. It was always the same game. And the girl would always open the closet door just a little, just for her to peek in and see her parents' pale faces, panic and hysteria in their dilated eyes.

_"Come out, come out, wherever you are~"_

She would never forget their screams.

* * *

_**...Boundaries...**_

"**N**_**o**_**w**_** A**_**l**_**i**_**c**_**e … **_**A**_**l**_**i**_**c**_**e w**_**a**_**s**_**n**_**'t **_**a**_**n **_**o**_**r**_**d**_**i**_**na**_**r**_**y **_**g**_**i**_**r**_**l.**_**" –**_**Unknown**_

* * *

"She isn't normal."

The woman behind the desk sighed and gathered the papers, already used to this routine. She was about to speak when the door opened and creaked in an eerie way. The three adults simultaneously turned towards the intruder, stiffening when they saw a little girl peek in the room with her big violet eyes.

She was about seven years old, a typical age for the children in the orphanage. It was too bad she was going to be one of them again, but at the same time the woman couldn't care less. The girl asked for it, proof given by the amount of papers and the words written in each and every one.

What a shame, the woman thought. She was adorable. The strands of her short colorless hair were held together by tiny pink ribbons, her round face giving her the most innocent look.

But perhaps 'innocent' wasn't the right word to say or rather think by the reports her current foster parents wrote.

"Um, Yukari, sweetie," The foster-mother started with sweat damp on her forehead, "This is a talk between adults so can you give us some 'adult' time?"

The woman raised an eyebrow.

Adult time was more like therapy.

"Okay!" The little girl beamed and hesitated when she closed the door. If the woman didn't know any better, she would've thought she gave a secret glare at the duo. But that wasn't possible, Yukari wasn't one to bear hatred at anyone. If anything, she was an angel at the orphanage.

Then again, the reports tell another story.

"We want to return her as soon as possible." The man declared, his back stiff and rigid on the chair.

She didn't give any pause when she answered back, "This isn't a toy store, Moto-san."

The mother slammed her hands on the desk, but the woman didn't even blink. "Look, we're going to be as blunt as possible. That girl is not normal. There is something wrong with her, and I'd rather not have a psychopath near my _only_ child!"

The woman behind the desk merely flipped a page. "And this has _nothing_ to do with our type of orphanage? Nothing to do with the bloodline of _half_ of these children?"

There was doubt in the woman's eyes when the mother didn't respond. That reaction was all she needed.

"We _know_ what kind of orphanage this is. We _know_." The father played with his fingers. "We _tried_ to look past that. But – but how can we when she's acting like that."

Those type of people were always shallow. It was bound to happen and be said. If there was one of them, mainly the first, that caused the most trouble, they would just assume that _all_ of them were the same troublemakers.

Because they believed that 'they' were an exception.

But the woman didn't say anything. She's said the same lines so many times that it wouldn't make a difference anymore.

"Never stops smiling, doesn't raise her voice, doesn't make a tantrum, always does her chores, never disobeys." The woman read out loud until she made her point. "Your words: 'We believe she is bottling up her emotions and might become unable to do so at some breaking point.' Translation," She offered with a tone of closure. "She's too sweet and perfect that it's creepy."

The mother was outraged. "That's not it at all! Do you realize what she's done?! What I've seen her do to my child while we were _asleep_?! Understand that this isn't just an acc–"

"Please restrain your wife, Moto-san. Or I'm afraid that I'll have to call security."

He looked like he wanted to say something but thought about it and decided that it wasn't the right thing to say, so he complied without complaint.

"Stop it! Let me go, Takeda!" She tried in vain to shrug off his hands off her shoulders, "Say something! Don't make me look crazy!"

The woman behind the desk looked at him expectantly, "Any comments?"

He waited for his wife to calm down and when she did, he struggled to let the words out.

"There was one time when she did something in the middle of the night."

This time the woman was paying close attention.

"She got up from her bed, and I thought she just wanted to go to the bathroom or come to our room like our son does every once in a while. Thought she was going to get a drink when she went to the kitchen too but she didn't do anything for a while, just stare at the wall – our son's side of the room. And she started humming a song. Have you ever heard of that song?" He asked his wife.

She only stared at the ground with wide eyes.

"_Mommy, do you want to play?"_

"You recorded it?" The woman asked in disbelief.

He ignored the question, "She walked down the halls and to the kitchen. She stopped by the sink where the utensils are and you can guess what happened from there."

"Can we just go now?" The mother asked. "I want to go back to my son. I don't want to leave him alone."

Ironic when she basically ditched the other one.

"Very well. I assume we won't ever see you here again?"

They both nodded with strained expressions of determination. When they were both out of earshot, the woman sat back down with a tired sigh.

She leaned forward and rested her head on folded arms, going through the high stack of papers in the corner of her desk. One by one she could see the same name typed or written over and over followed by requests of abandoning the foster care system because of the child, although there are some rare cases where they just want to stop having 'her' specifically.

"Oh Yukari," She breathed out, raking her blonde hair in exasperation.

The door creaked open.

"What am I going to do with you?"

* * *

The blonde woman behind the desk looked up from her paperwork and tensed when a familiar face of the past invaded her sight.

"Shion-san? What an unexpected surprise."

The man in front of her desk nodded curtly but didn't greet her or give any welcome expression. The woman wasn't offended. He always was a man of few words.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here?"

"Oliver." His voice was raspy as if he rarely used it. But the woman couldn't help but to be entranced at the pitch. If he were human, there is no doubt he would gain some followers of his own. Women would be puppies around him.

But he wasn't human.

A blonde boy stood up from the corner of the room and she almost jumped when his silhouette moved.

The blonde woman inspected the boy clinging to the man's legs, almost like a lost son, she mused. He was another cute one. All of them in this orphanage had good looks. Nothing disgusting or snobby like the children with homes. He would fit right in.

Her nose scrunched at his smell but she didn't turn away. His ragged clothes suggest that he lived in the dumpsters. That wasn't new. What _was_ new were the bandages covering his left eye.

She wondered about _his_ tragedy.

"Don't cling to me." Shion ordered with cold indifference. The woman didn't understand his attitude. The man was an enigma. She wished she could read the man's thoughts, but at the same time, she knew that it wasn't her place nor was she sane enough to bear the man's burdens.

"Watch over him." Shion said, leaving the boy to stand alone.

At that moment, the woman frowned.

"And remember what I said when I first came here."

She nodded and let him leave the room despite the lingering questions planting in her head. She stared at the injured boy, preparing to write out his basic information and scoot over to the edge of her chair.

"Oliver," The boy looked up. "Come sit with me."

He was cute, yes, but the look in his eyes was something that should be thought over. They weren't eyes of a child. They weren't eyes of a human. The golden color didn't matter, only the emotion within them.

Right now, there was none.

As she talked to the boy with the voice of a mother, she let the secrets in her memory unfold and remembered the man's words.

The image of the little girl brought a smile in her lips.

It seems she wasn't the only one who thought Yukari was different.

_"She is worth so much more."_

Oliver could only stare as he spotted a pair of envious violet eyes looking through the window.

* * *

"How old is she again?"

The woman behind the desk wished she could slam her head on the desk, but she could only settle with the force she set on when she closed her book.

"Seven and a half, sir."

The man in front of her was what one call a soldier, or for the lack of a better term, a samurai of some kind. One of those men who owned a dojo at least. He wasn't incredibly buff, but he wasn't exactly flimsy either. In fact, the scar on his cheek would say otherwise.

It was a surprise to know that he would involve himself in foster care.

"You know, I've seen this in a horror movie before."

At this, the blonde woman raised an eyebrow to show her curiosity. She always thought this would come one day. To make a comparison between Yukari and a horror movie was bound to happen. She just never thought it would come from this tough foster-father.

This ought to be good.

He tapped his chin with a finger, recollecting his memory. "It was a movie I saw in America, one of those that make you think that it actually _can _happen. It was about an orphan, I believe around Yukari's age and she did some atrocious things. Burn things, injure kids around her age, attempted murder, you know, things like that."

The blonde couldn't help but to silently scoff at the idea he was letting on.

"Turns out she just had an, um, condition that wouldn't allow her body to grow. She was a prostitute with mental problems. It's very unexpected until you see the end but you get my drift."

It was silent between the two, mainly because of the man's mini rant about a horror movie and the urge to swallow another laugh. It was amazing what explanations Yukari's foster parents came up with. All of them were so unique.

Just like the girl herself.

"Okazaki-san," She set her book down, interlaced her hands, and finally sat up, slightly leaning forward and giving the samurai an unamused look. "Are you suggesting that Yukari is not a child?"

Cue the awkward silence.

She had to mentally thank the girl for appearing (purposely she bets) in the room and making the man narrow his eyes at her in suspicion. The blonde was sure that he knew of her intentional disruptions.

"Not a child, huh?" The blonde woman mumbled beneath her breath.

The little girl was even cuter than last time. Her ribbons were still placed but they were sturdier than usual, dark too. Her hair grew much longer, reaching mid-back just by her low pigtails. The miniature version of a dojo uniform just made her all the more huggable.

"Father-san," She called in a small voice. The blonde almost forgot about her tendencies to call her foster parents that way. She never called them in the proper way a child would. That was just one of Yukari's coping quirks though, nothing strange about that.

Apparently it was one of the excuses of many foster parents.

It still amused the blonde to no end.

"Do you want me to–" Innocent, violet eyes met mature, hazel eyes. The little girl bowed to the blonde in a proper warrior way.

"Good afternoon, Brunhilda."

How cute.

Most foster parents, or even just regular parents, would be proud to have a daughter that can learn her manners as eloquent and quickly as Yukari.

The troubled expression on the man's face said otherwise.

"Not now, Yukari!" The man barked, "We're having a man to m – _woman_ conversation!"

Said girl stood up straight and bowed once more. "Yes, sir! I shall take my leave, sir!"

Soldier indeed, the blonde hummed as Yukari basically marched to the door and out.

She heavily exhaled when the door closed, looking through his report once more though this time with an actual inspection.

It was more habit than work when she read the problems with Yukari out loud, making the man sure of his lack of mistakes or not.

"Injuries during practice, none of them self harm, all of them towards other students/apprentices, damages on property, threatening/intimidation, unnecessary violence, and the burning of belongings both hers and of others."

She flipped a page and a couple more to see the damages and bills she had caused.

Ah, budget was going to be short these two months.

She didn't let him see her distress. "So where's your closure?"

It was the man's turn to raise an eyebrow. "It speaks for itself. She is too destructive and clearly not disciplined."

"Okazaki-san, it sounds to me that she is going through a rebellious stage and if not, one that makes her unable to control her full strength. Clearly it is your job as the foster parent to nurture her."

"You don't understand, Brunhilda-san," There they are again. Those repeated lines of every foster parent. "Yukari purposely does this. One time she tried to break a man's arm twice her size just for insulting her. Surely that is not normal for an eight-year-old girl."

Brunhilda didn't even bother to correct the man about her age. He did have her there. After all, no one would want to take care of a child that can kill you just for an insult.

Well, he signed his papers, and she officially talked to him. Now she just wanted to say one more thing to end this tiring conversation.

"And this is not because of the kind of orphanage this is? This has nothing to do with the bloodline _half_ of these children carry?"

Somehow, Brunhilda already knew the answer before the man spoke.

He gave direct eye contact, and she had to respect him for answering truthfully, even if she knew that she would not like the next words she heard.

"I'm sorry, Brunhilda-san."

She already stamped the papers for his abandonment of the foster care system, giving a pitying glance at the door.

"I don't want to have anything to do with Nefas ever again."

* * *

Nefas.

What a pitiful species.

Created by an unknown source, a god perhaps, but really they were seen as spawn of the devil.

Brunhilda never understood why they were seen that way. It was in her blood to see the obvious and the obvious was right there in front of everyone's faces.

"Something is wrong with this world."

"Huh?"

She was surprised and she silently scolded herself for letting her thoughts slip. She didn't want any of them to know what she was thinking, else these innocent children be corrupted too.

"Nothing, Mikuo, just eat your supper."

The teal haired boy looked at her strangely, but he shrugged it off in favor of food. Soon he was included in the many conversations of the table. A table, unfortunately, not big enough to hold the entire orphanage. Some of them waited until the first row were gone, others insisted in having a 'picnic' just to ease their starving stomachs.

But they all had something in common, something that made thirty-year-old Brunhilda smile in content and in hidden sadness.

They didn't separate in groups. They didn't care about the strange colored hair in their peers' heads. They didn't care about the abnormality of half of their big family.

They were all the same, and that's the way it should be.

"Brunhilda," A blonde boy called.

The woman bent down and fondly smiled at the newcomer, "What is it, Oliver?"

"Could you replace my bandages again? Yukari ruined them."

Said girl stomped her foot, food ignored, "You wish!"

"Yukari." Brunhilda warned.

"What–he–that wasn't–oh that's just not fair!"

Brunhilda laughed at the frustrated look on the girl's face.

"Brunhilda!" She whined. "He fell by himself!"

"You tackled me!"

She puffed her cheeks. "Lightly."

"That wasn't lightly!"

"You're just weak, Oliver. Grow some muscle."

Oliver pouted and clung to Brunhilda's legs. "At least, I'm not mistaken as a guy with long hair."

Yukari blushed in embarrassment, cheeks flushing when the other kids cheered. "Sh–shut up! That was only one time!"

"There, there, Yukari just has more strength. But Oliver you have your cute points too."

"Brunhilda, you're supposed to be cheering _me_ up! I just got insulted!" She feigned betrayal.

"Yes, yes, Yukari. We all deserve to be comforted, but that's not _my_ job~" She winked as she left, leaving the hooting to the kids.

Yes, innocent little Yukari had a crush on a certain Nefa. He had one of the infamous traits of one, sadly, the pink hair on his head said it all. The beanie he wore wouldn't make such a difference but he insisted on wearing it in fear that he would reveal something worse on his head.

Brunhilda wished she didn't know.

She decided to abandon all thoughts of their misfortune and satisfy herself with the aspect of cooties and the "love life" involving Yukari.

"What do you mean pink hair is stupid?! Don't insult my beloved!"

And the kids were doing a pretty damn good job at teasing the troublemaker, judging by the rise of her temper.

Oliver tugged on her black dress, "Aren't you worried that Yukari will hurt them?"

Understanding his curiosity, Brunhilda reassured him with a squeeze of her hand. "Yukari will never do that. We're her family so she knows her limits."

"But then why does she harm the other adults?"

Brunhilda was more than a little surprised by his question. "You know?"

He nodded and winced a bit when Brunhilda removed the bandages from his left eye, tightly closing it shut.

The blonde paused before she gathered new bandages.

"She has a habit of showing too much affection." She explained, giving a wary smile.

She finished before he could ask any more questions. The day was almost ending too, so their bed times were up. Oliver already knew of their schedule and Brunhilda hoped he would get used to it soon. Hopefully, he'll like it here as much as the other children.

There was still this disturbing vibe that came from the boy though. It nearly made Brunhilda suspicious of the little boy, making her disgusted at herself.

But she couldn't help but to feel that this feeling was … right.

Oliver knew about the trouble Yukari caused for her foster parents. Not only that, but he knew that she caused _harm_ to them, not just typical child issues.

Strange.

The orphans weren't supposed to know about this information. They were all private unless told by themselves. And Brunhilda knew that Yukari would rather keep herself mysterious. It was just one of her quirks.

Oliver had just arrived recently, at most a month. Everything from his dirty sailor clothes to the bandages on his left eye.

He was a shy little Nefa who didn't know anyone from the orphanage. It was expected.

She wondered how he knew about Yukari though.

Brunhilda also thought that he wasn't the type to eavesdrop on others. It goes to show that you shouldn't judge by appearance.

Brunhilda left her inner wariness and set off to guide the kids to bed. It was a school night so they shouldn't be up this late. Not even Yukari was against her exhaustion.

Little did she know that she was being followed.

* * *

"Where in the world does she _learn_ this–this–this perversion?"

The woman behind the desk, Brunhilda, wanted to make the old woman read her own reports. Every note she took made her either feel incredibly embarrassed or so bewildered that she had to read it many times to understand it.

All in all, she believed this is the worst report Yukari ever made someone write.

"I'm–I'm sure there's an explanation for this. They say that children are highly influenced by their surroundings."

That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

The old woman in front of her looked appalled. "Brunhilda-san, are you implying that my estate… No! I can not tolerate this! I can not bear to hear this! This is–"

The butler provided a drink to help the rich old woman calm down.

After she gracefully took a sip and lightly tapped her lips with a handkerchief, she gave Brunhilda a stern glare.

"My apologies, Shimizu-san–_sama_!" Boy, was she stuttering a lot today. She believed that no one can fully make this old woman satisfied. It was a wonder that Yukari survived with her for 2 weeks. Even more–this was the most someone could take her in for! What kind of bizarreness was this?! "But this could be some sort of misunderstanding! Maybe there is this tiny possibility that someone is framing her or making her do this? There are some nasty people out there wishing for your grateful amount of wealth you have..."

This was not turning out so well.

The old woman sniffed in indignation.

"That child can not be in my property. She is hereby banned from my island." Brunhilda paled. She owned an island? How rich was this woman?! "Honestly, I didn't expect much, but this?" She horridly gestured to the reports. "This does not even meet the standards of the poor!"

Brunhilda winced.

"Ron! Ron, fetch my glasses!" She ordered. The butler quickly went to action and handed her the needed spectacles. When he lowered himself to give her a pen, Brunhelda noticed something about the blue-eyed, long-haired butler.

He was a Nefa too.

"What are you dilly dallying for? Where do I sign?"

Brunhilda broke from her reverie and a bit bashfully, gave her a patient smile.

"With all due respect, Shimizu-sama, we're not done yet."

Now she looked baffled, "What more is there to discuss? I just want to get rid of this insolent child!"

Brunhilda bit her tongue.

She tried to distract herself by doing the usual, but it only added more turmoil. "Destroyed expensive and rare property, indecency in front of high-class ranks, extreme invasion of personal space, indecent language, perversion, harassment, refuses to wear basic amount of clothing…oh dear."

The woman nodded with a knowing look. "In conclusion, this child is too perverted and indecent for our world. She has no place."

"Ma'am ... that's a bit much."

"Shut it, Ron. May I remind you where your place stands?"

Brunhilda placed a hand on her forehead, attempting to cool off. It wouldn't be good to ruin the already low reputation of this orphanage.

She tried again. "Shimizu-sama, can you elaborate?"

"Why I certainly can!" She agreed eagerly, almost similarly to a teenager gossiping. "She barely wears any clothing. The child has no shame. She wears a shirt that cuts off to her stomach! And very short skirts! It's almost as if she's asking for someone to take advantage of her. It lowers my reputation, not to mention the reputation of my islanders."

So it was only the clothes?

No, judging by the old woman's expression, she's not even close to finished.

"She kissed an admiral! She touched a lord! She exposed herself to many of my servants," At this Ron blushed. "All you need to know is that she's not needed anymore. If you want more evidence, read for yourself!" Ron provided a fan for the woman to cool herself off.

Brunhilda was tempted to ask for one too.

"Okay," She breathed. "Now before you sign–"

"Do not tell me there is more."

"Before you sign," Brunhilda gritted her teeth, "Answer me this. Does this have anything to do with what type of orphanage this is? Anything to do with the bloodline _half_ of these children carry?"

The woman didn't skip a beat as she scoffed, "Of course it does! I wouldn't waste my time if it wasn't this type of orphanage."

Brunhilda froze in her typing.

Was she hearing right?

Could someone out there actually be like her? Someone who can see the obvious and terrible line that walls between the two species. Someone who wanted to make a difference?

Her heart felt lighter, smile forming into an irresistible grin.

Was this real?

"These good for nothing children _have_ to be useful for something, don't they?"

Her smile dropped instantly.

No.

No, of course it wasn't real.

"I mean, Nefas. They are Nefas, right? Terrible creatures, filthy little beings. They don't exist in my mind, nor do they stand on the same Earth as we do."

Her fingers curled into trembling fists, tightening until her knuckles turned white. She wanted this woman to stop. She wanted to stop her blindness, her spoiled lips to stop talking that way.

"Look at Ron here! He may be a butler, but he's not even qualified to serve a cockroach!"

How many of these people starved because of their blood? How many of them died of either _murder_ or oppression? How many while this woman _spoiled_ herself in a sheltered haven of her own?

She shaded her eyes and willed herself to calm down. One woman couldn't make a difference. She couldn't _do_ anything no matter how much she tried. There were too many voices, too much hate. Brunhilda was only human. But no one saw the orphans in the streets in the same light.

She tried to hold in her anger, _tried_ to reason herself that the sweet girl behind the door wasn't worth the lives of a thousand orphans.

"If they aren't fit to serve us, they should all just die!"

But she couldn't.

"Please get out of my office."

The woman paused and gave her a menacing look full of scorn. "What was that, child?"

Brunhilda stood up. "I won't be polite this time, especially to someone such as yourself. Get out of my office. Get out of this building. I'll make sure to burn all of the papers that associate yourself to the foster care system."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Do you realize–"

"I know who you are, nor do I care. Your attitude is despicable. You say that they are beneath cockroaches? Well, you are in an even worse position. You are scum, trash beneath my feet."

The butler hurried to help the woman out the door.

"How dare you?! What a wretched mouth! No wonder that girl is so ill minded!"

"Do not include Yukari into this!" Brunhilda opened the door and grabbed the girl behind it, hiding her away from the woman, away from the woman's words. "This girl does not deserve the words of someone so inhumane!"

"Inhumane?" The woman laughed and violently shrugged Ron's hands away, disgust in her face. "Inhumane." She repeated, cackling as she went out of the building. "Nefas aren't even _human_, you silly child."

Brunhilda knew what she going to say next, so she prepared to cover the girl's ears and wished that she had enough hands to cover the other's ears. But her first priority was Yukari because she…

She…

_She is worth so much more._

The girl fidgeted in her hold and Brunhilda looked down in horror when she realized her mistake.

"Oliver?"

Brunhilda's eyes widened in panic when she saw a familiar little girl stare at the door. Her usual beaming violet eyes dimmed a little and there was no trace of her adorable grin on her small lips.

It wasn't fair that her hair looked beautiful, tied up in high pigtails and curled at the ends near her hips. Her frilly purple dress glowed and she looked like she was playing cupid if it wasn't for the distraught look on her face.

It wasn't fair that she was dressed in her best clothing just to hear those horrible words.

"They're monsters!"

* * *

_...what's the lesson..._

* * *

**A/N: **Japanese honorifics are used like **-san **which is similar to Mr/Ms/Mrs. and **-sama **which is used to indicate extreme respect. This chapter is a bit slow but trust me when I say it _is_ important. I also did mention that this is a crossover between original characters and Vocaloid _for the plot. S_o be patient, my readers, the Shion family made little appearance today, but you'll see more later on ^.^ This is somewhat of a background but there is so much foreshadowing in this chapter. I wonder what goes on in your minds right now! What did you think of Yukari? What about the little teaser Shion here? :}

Sooooo ... I decided to change the protagonist - mind you, for a _reason__. _And yes, because Yukari is cute too. But nothing else has changed other than that little intro there. This _is_ a horror story too by the way. If you guys don't get it, then that beginning is the past where Yukari doesn't even have a name yet. You'll learn more on the next chapter.

When the bold letters come that's the present time of the story. It's the chapter title and a quote. Just so you know don't bother to search it up, it's my own. The UNKNOWN thing is part of the mystery.

In simple terms:

**Lesson # **

_...Past Storyline..._

**Chap: Title**

**Quote**

_...Present Storyline..._

I hope this clears things up!


	3. Lesson II

**XXX+ Lesson II +XXX**

* * *

_She would never forget their screams._

It was in the middle of the night when the high ranked officer came. It wasn't recommended to act at this time of day nor was the fearless leader anxious about this crime scene. Normally he was. the adrenaline was intoxicating and when his fingers pulled the trigger, he couldn't deny the absolute delight at the result.

Yet, this time, he didn't give a damn about the crime taken two days ago. He came to this country for only one purpose and one purpose alone. A vacation was needed; his family was thrilled to find him finally take time to relax and spend two weeks with him alone. It was the best he could get, and the man wasn't happy when he got called into duty in the middle of it.

"This isn't what I had in mind when I came to England." The man muttered darkly as he took a right turn. His hands twitched, one tightly gripping the steering wheel, the other itching to find his cigars.

The detective next to him sat comfortably in the passenger's seat, looking out the window. The raindrops clouded the glass, making it nearly impossible to see through the other side. The officer wanted to laugh. Of course it would rain. How much more cliche can it get? Criminals basically took this weather as the perfect opportunity to murder some people and steal their shit.

It didn't help that he couldn't open the window for a smoke.

"You are aware of your own reputation?" The detective asked in a tired tone. "Unfortunately, our own police agency isn't as great as yours. Not to mention that it may involve a Nefa on the loose."

The officer almost slammed the brakes, stopping the car when a red light flashed. "A Nefa's involved?"

"May." The detective corrected. "They weren't sure how to identify her. I do, however, have one comment."

"Oh?" The officer raised an eyebrow, glancing at him for a moment when the light turned green.

The detective chuckled grimly, placing his hat on top of his black hair before narrowing his eyes at the sight of a specific house. The car slowed down and parked on the other side. The detective fixed his hat before the rain could attack, and he turned to the officer who was barely closing the door to his car.

"She's creepy as hell."

It was the usual business when they entered the household, bodies tense yet having a relaxed vibe, guns ready to fire, lights left alone before inspecting the area. When they deemed it safe to move around, they both separated in order to find some clues and further details.

What the officer found wasn't a welcoming sight.

He expected this, of course, but he never really got used to the gore he experienced from these filthy animals. They were as gruesome as always, he only hoped the little orphan girl made it out alive.

According to the reports, the crime was only found out today despite it being suspicious forty-eight hours ago. The neighbors apparently didn't mind the screams from this house, stating that it was normal to hear the family's yells which is why they didn't call for help in the first place. Not to mention how hard the storm was on that very day.

It also didn't help that this happened in the night. The call for 911 was cut off before the caller even said a word. One ring and it stopped. It was no surprise that they suspected it was only a prank call caught red handed before it got serious.

The neighbors called when they opened the door.

He knew why they instantly panicked.

A family of three was murdered in cold blood. In two rooms he found the victims. The living room where the father was located, pinned to the table with glass shards, and the bathroom where the mother sat, head smashed into the wall.

The detective took care of the father while he inspected the bathroom. It was no puzzle in why she was here in the first place. Unfortunately, her hiding was futile when it came to the murderer. Her face was literally cut in half by caving in her head to the bathroom wall. The brain turned into mush, blood splattering in that area. Jaw unhinged, eyeball hanging by a thread of red flesh.

"The father was stabbed to death. His jaw was pierced through from the bottom to his mouth, shard sticking out. That's the reason he didn't yell or anything."

The officer didn't outwardly panic like most would have. Perhaps that was why the detective confided in him first. He wasn't a newcomer, those were the type to lash out instantly after the sight. Just the mention of blood would make them lurch with this picture in mind. Yes, this was definitely not the job for newcomers. Only the experienced like him could handle this situation with a clear mind, besides they didn't deserve to be traumatized in the first duty of their jobs.

"Strong bastard," The officer commented, gesturing to the scene. "Looks like it crushed her skull with one hit. If it didn't..."

They both internally winced at the unspoken deduction. Even if they didn't know the pain, imagining it itself was strong enough for it to be real.

The detective removed his hat and sighed under his breath. He ran his hand through his hair, leaving it tousled, lifting his chin up and watching the ceiling with dim eyes. He didn't move when the officer spoke.

"Where's the Nefa?"

He dropped his head in a lazy manner. "Don't know. We're still looking."

The officer narrowed his cold grey eyes. The way they glinted with absolute malice made the detective tense in fear, mind reeling with just that small movement. It was no wonder he was the commander of the military division. For once, and most definitely last, he felt pity towards a Nefa.

"So you have all the info ready?" He stated more than asked. "What's the suspect's background?" The officer walked down a hall, fighting the urge to light up a cigar. He couldn't change the scene of the crime however. Every single detail counted.

The detective shook his head. "With all due respect, general, although it is possible for a Nefa to be involved, this wasn't the case. She may or may not be one of them."

"Cut to the point, Hunter," The officer coldly frowned.

Hunter hunched his shoulders in response, nonetheless he sighed in that same tired tone that he kept since the beginning of the day. "The whereabouts of–"

He was cut off by a sob.

It was an abnormal, heart-wrenching, croaked sob that created a thick atmosphere between the two men. The house became silent, leaving a dark void as the mere sound of the floor's creaking beneath their feet made their own breaths hitch.

They didn't need to speak when they decided to look for the source.

When they moved, the officer finally tasted the sense of adrenaline, the fine taste of preying on a wild animal, the taste of pride where a bullet could rid the very one who killed innocents.

It wasn't a sob. It was a cry. There was a difference that he had the unfortunate lesson of learning of during the days of his growth. This wasn't an ordinary sob of pain, grief or anger. The sound was too high-pitched. Broken. This wasn't from a sane person. It was a scream of hunger.

Unconsciously, his finger found the way to the trigger. He noted the way the hall seem to close in on him as the lack of sound pierced his ears. _Smart_ _little fucker_, he thought. It didn't make another sound, making it harder for him to locate.

Then it was there. It was faint, almost nonexistent, but he could feel it.

The voice that invaded his senses. The breath that left a warm gust of air blow in the back of his ear.

A little girl giggled into his ear.

The officer's eyes widened before narrowing and he gritted his teeth. There was a click from his gun, but he didn't pull just yet. The detective turned towards him with a questioning expression.

"Downstairs."

He didn't bother to look back.

The officer was beyond pissed. The muscles in his arms was struggling to break free from the tension, his legs, walking faster by the second, was working in compensation. He didn't question his instinct, he never has, so there was no reason why he wouldn't right now.

And there it was. He didn't know how he missed it the first time, but the sight of the door beside the kitchen threshold was all he needed to slam it open and aim for the head.

There was no way he could've missed.

It was impossible to, and he'd be damned if his reputation and pride was tarnished by this single pitiful excuse of a human being. It was outright laughable to even consider her a human. This girl who mocked him in his personal space. This girl who dared to look terrified when there was blood splattered in her skin.

This girl who resembled a ghost.

There was no way he could've missed.

But the detective next to him proved him wrong.

An arm effortlessly pushed his elbow as if leaving a trail for the barrel of the gun. The loud bang echoed in the small household, but it didn't leave a good impression to the officer.

The hole on the wall of the closet didn't satisfy him one bit.

"Hunter," He called icily, anger nowhere in his tone. The effect, though, amplified the hidden feeling even more. "What is the meaning of this?"

It was a demand, and he knew it. "I apologize, sir, but I can't have you do that."

The direction where this was heading was the worst one he could've taken. But the detective wasn't fazed in the slightest, just like how that little girl in the ground wasn't fazed by the gunshot aimed at her head earlier. Instead, the shorter man pulled out a file under his trench coat, offering it to the officer with the picture clear in his view.

"You were about to kill the last survivor."

There in that picture was the little girl. Skin a pale white state. Hair with no hint of a color. And the eyes...

They were the darkest shade of violet he's ever seen.

He looked at the girl curled up in a ball. Her nails scratching her own face. Her fingers slipping then rising to her forehead. Her hair disheveled. The small hands kept running up and down her face as she kept muffling her whimpers. She never stopped shaking, she never closed her eyes. They were wide in fear and at the same time, he could see the emptiness drowning her young mind into oblivion.

She was the little girl who was adopted into this family.

Yet even if he saw her hiding in her own hands, he couldn't forget the skull half embedded on the bathroom wall. Even if he saw her trying to suppress the memories and maintain a sane mind, he couldn't forget the downfall of his childhood and the fault whom it lays on.

Even as she muttered to herself, even as the words of death kept rolling off her tongue, even as she kept clawing her eyes out, even as the girl looked no older than five...

He still wanted to kill her.

* * *

**_...Deceit..._**

**"_S_h_e _w_a_s_ a_s_ p_e_r_f_e_c_t _a_s _a_ d_o_l_l_." –Unknown_**

* * *

Third grade teachers.

What did they do?

In general what type of relationship were they supposed to have between them and their students?

Hiyama Kiyoteru, at that time, didn't really know how he was supposed to answer that question. He was sure that it wasn't supposed to be the case, because if that ever happened, then he really wasn't qualified to be a teacher.

But, what was he supposed to do? Teachers were supposed to guide their students, lead them step by step to the path of adulthood. The kids, as well as themselves, are supposed to be educated. Potential was waiting to be found and nurtured properly. Minds needed to be expanded. Thoughts are to never stray from the forbidden. To him the most important thing was to lead by example, give those watching eyes a hint of what was right from wrong.

Those violet eyes however, they weren't watching him.

They were too lost and too far to see him.

He almost found that ironic since the owner of those eyes was right in front of him.

Connection. That was the meaning of her name. Oddly enough, it didn't seem to fit her. She was a strange child, always acting out of place compared to the other children. Whereas the others stayed quiet as he taught, she always asked questions that at times, didn't even relate to the topic. Some would find that endearing; it was rare to see those kids that think outside the box, but what Hiyama didn't get was the response of her actions. _They_ didn't find it endearing. They didn't find it endearing at all. And this made Hiyama think twice about his role.

Was he unconsciously favoring her over the others?

Hiyama brushed the thought as soon as it came. That couldn't be it. Because he knew how strange she acted as well. Her "quirks" as her guardians put it, were glaringly obvious. They were all so different, and it went so far as to make the caretaker of the orphanage ask him to watch over her.

Everyone knew how protective Brunhilda was over the orphans. They were practically her children by now, so for her to suddenly ask him to be a counselor, this girl must have crossed the line.

"Yuki likes you, you know?"

Hiyama didn't know. He only met the girl a month ago, but she wasn't in his class. She was in the most advanced class in the school whereas he was teaching the second ranked one. There was no other reason for her to have an interest in him in the first place.

"Just like how I like my beloved!"

Hiyama could've choked on his own spit by that statement. Of course, he's heard of that crush of hers. The other orphans wouldn't stop teasing her about it. The man straightened on the edge of his desk, raising an eyebrow at the albino girl. She never looked up from that drawing of hers since she's started talking.

"I don't really blame her though. You're not a bad looker!" She said with a grin.

"Yukari, we aren't here to talk over your friend," He firmly stated, speaking to her with a gentle tone. "We're here to talk about your actions in the past few days."

She paused for a second before scribbling on that piece of paper again.

"They say they caught you cheating."

"I didn't cheat." She mumbled.

"You disrespectfully threw a spitball at your teacher."

"She wouldn't listen."

"And you went over to the other side of the playground again."

The girl stopped her movements, lifting the corners of the paper and looking at her drawing with an intense gaze. He thought she was ignoring him when she spoke in the softest voice, "...it was what he wanted."

Hiyama didn't like how her eyes blinked hard as if holding something back. Her head was hung down in shame for a reason he didn't know of, and this made his disappointment waver at the sight.

"Who?" He asked, guilt gnawing at him. This was it, wasn't it? The favoritism that he shouldn't have, but what else was he feeling? Sympathy? Pride? Because when she answered, it started.

"My friend...it's his birthday."

He sighed, fixing his glasses as he got off his desk. "That side is ... it's not for kids like you."

"Why?" She innocently asked.

_'Why?__' _That's a very good question. A question that he wasn't supposed to answer, not yet, and he hoped that she wouldn't ever get the answer to.

'Because' was a start of an answer, so he went for something else. "You deserve better."

Her nose wrinkled cutely, but he didn't see anything else when she let her hair cover her face. She startled him when the chair suddenly screeched over the floor and when a small body tackled him around the waist, gripping tightly and never letting go.

"I think I know why she likes you." She said in a meek way, sniffling a little when her grip loosened. He looked down and saw her rub her nose a bit before clinging onto his shirt.

Teachers...what kind of relationship do they have between them and their students?

Hiyama Kiyoteru didn't know.

He just knew that when he patted her head, her tense shoulders relaxed. As if she was expecting rejection and disgust. As if she expected for him to yell at her for ruining his shirt.

As if this happened to her all the time.

All he knew was that fear wasn't supposed to be there.

* * *

"Boom."

The man raised an eyebrow, lifting his glasses with two fingers before giving another look to the eight-year-old. She didn't seem to be aware of the glares she received as she looked out the window. The kids around her only stared at her strangely before shrugging it off. The adults in the back, however, seemed keen to the idea of burning a hole to the back of her head.

Hiyama sighed under his breath before clearing his throat to get their attention, grumbling when he still didn't get _her_ attention. He knocked on the chalkboard and called her out but all she did was glance at him and all of her attention was back on the window.

"Yukari-chan, I prefer your eyes focusing to the front of the class rather than outside."

The adults began to whisper among themselves, sparing a glance to the girl's direction every now and then. She threw an uninterested stare behind her shoulder before facing forward, not particularly facing the board. Instead, she stared at the boy's head in front of her.

"Yes, Hiyama-sensei."

The man nodded and pointed at the board. "Now, can you tell me the answer to this question?"

Yukari didn't answer. In fact, when he asked her the question, it looked as if she was not even present in his class. There was something in her eyes that made him panic on the inside. Her eyes gleamed, but it didn't look like she was about to cry.

He wasn't even sure if she heard him.

Yukari blinked and the look in her eyes disappeared along with it. She shook her head and rested her chin on the palm of her hand, completely ignoring the murmurs behind her.

"It doesn't matter."

Hiyama blinked at her response. The boy next to her seat nudged her with a scolding look. Yukari rolled her shoulders again, looking out the window.

"See? I told you..." One of the louder adults whispered to the other. Hiyama tried to drown out her voice by fixing his composure and letting the hand on the board fall back to his side.

"And why doesn't it matter?" He asked, all eyes now turning to the blonde little girl who secretly smiled behind her hand.

"Silly, Sensei," She laughed, the sound smothered by her fingers. "History's all in the past. We should all just go forward."

There were sounds of agreement from her classmates but there were also looks of disapproval from the adults. Hiyama almost wanted to groan and dismiss the class already, quitting because of this particular student and this _particular _day.

It was parents visiting day.

The time where all students were on their best behavior, either excited or embarrassed to have their parents in the same room as their peers. It was like examination day where his superiors were here to judge the entire school's appearance and evaluate their progress. Only instead of his superiors, it was the parents of his students, the very ones glaring and gossiping in the back of the room. They weren't subtle at all if Yukari's twitch didn't indicate something. Even he, himself, could hear her name come out of their mouths every minute or so.

Hiyama massaged his temple, growing frustrated by the second. He had to be calm. He couldn't just yell at them for being ignorant of the girl's feelings. That just wasn't how it was anymore. This wasn't some cheesy movie in which he rants about philosophical points where the person suddenly understands and changes for the better. These were real people.

This was reality.

So he ignored the whole situation, and for some reason, when he saw Yukari's neighbor giving her a worried glance, he felt that he wasn't the only one trying to do the same.

"History is where we learn from our past mistakes, Yukari-chan."

She stilled, eyes widening a bit before drooping back to its half lidded state. Her hand moved from its position and softly landed on the cool surface of her desk, eyes finally focusing on the teacher at front.

Of course, she should've expected her favorite teacher to answer back. Even on parents visiting day, there was no excuse. He just knew how to give her the answers she would seek while the others gave no reason to satisfy her. The look she had made his doubt perish in the most successful way.

Yukari was always easy to read. No matter what front she put on, she was only a child. A unique, almost prodigious child, but still a child. It's easy to forget sometimes that he was a teacher in an elementary school.

The corner of her lips twitched. "Everyone makes mistakes; that's what Brunhilda said to me."

"And she's right–"

"But what happens if that person _doesn't _learn from that mistake. What happens if they just keep doing it over and over again?"

The murmuring stopped and for sure, the obvious tension from the stares were all because of that little girl. Her curious peers, the same age as her, didn't really understand, but it was there. Their curiosities only piqued as usual since they always expected something from the cute girl. They always expected the same thing every day, in every class, with every teacher. The only difference was the extra spiteful looks from their reliable, lovable parents.

Hiyama knew that it wouldn't end just with that. Because Lily was different, and everyone knew it. She might look like the typical foreign student in a Japanese third grade class, but she was on the exact same platform as the two other students in Class B.

Haine Lin, a girl with grey, almost silver, eyes and short black hair. She was looking at Yukari with something akin to amusement from the other side of the room. There were still a few glares directed at her but they were focused on Yukari as well. It was as if they were trying to keep both students in their watch, failing because of the distance.

Kasane Ted, a boy with red eyes and long red hair that was tied in a thin ponytail trailing on his back in curls. He was trying not to sleep, nodding off during the silence. Hiyama could almost see the dark half moons under his eyes, his glasses sliding down to reveal them. The teacher frowned. It looked like he was still getting out of his depression. That wasn't good. Especially for a kid his age. At least, he received fewer glares than the girls.

In fact, some of the parents nodded in sick satisfaction when they looked in his direction. He sat in the very corner of the room, away from the students. The desk almost looked secluded compared to the rest.

Yes, all of them were on the same platform, whether they accepted it or not didn't matter. It was just something that they couldn't change even if they wanted to.

Because Class B wasn't the only one. Not even close.

At that moment, Hiyama didn't care about his actions. They were reckless, he knew they were, but it had to be said. Yukari was one that would surprise the others. She exaggerated every aspect of a child, something that other kids were now shy to do.

She was different.

And who was he to smother that potential from its fullest?

Hiyama smiled at the girl, her eyes expecting and her lips open in anticipation. He softened his gaze, completely contrasting the harsh ones from the adults in the back.

"Then that person would be a fool."

He expected the looks directed at him, the suspicious ones, the hateful ones, the disgusted ones, he accepted them all. Hiyama, though, he wasn't a child. He didn't take them personally like they did. He didn't cower under them like they did. He was an adult, a teacher who took care of his students even from the ones who already had their parents and guardians.

It was his duty to take care of them. And maybe, just maybe, that bright cheeky smile of hers wasn't part of the reason at all.

Yukari giggled again. "Boom, boom."

Her strange quirks though, was another thing entirely.

* * *

It wasn't even half a day when he was suddenly called to the principal's office.

How strange ... A teacher being called to the principal's office. He suddenly felt mischievous at the idea, but he already knew by the time he saw the man's face, that it wasn't the time to feel this way.

It never was in this period of time.

Maybe when he was already deceased will the world change. Maybe when he couldn't even see it for himself and already had to experience the tragedy of this world beforehand. It was for the better, he supposes, but there was still this resentment in his being as the woman sitting on one of the chairs turned around with an almost neutral expression on her face.

Almost neutral, but he could still see the underlying tension and contempt in those disapproving eyes of hers. Perhaps it was always like that. There were some people that couldn't help the expressions they showed no matter how they felt. Perhaps she was always scowling to the point where the expression glued to her face.

Perhaps.

But Hiyama knew that it wasn't the case.

The man straightened his posture even more, casting a charming smile at the two. He walked in with a regal atmosphere, sitting on the empty chair next to the woman and in front of the older man behind the intimidating desk.

"Hiyama-san," The older man addressed with a small smile, "Thank you for giving us our time, but I'm afraid that Hisamatsu-san here wants to give you her ... gratitude."

If Hiyama wasn't an organized civil adult, he would've snorted at the understatement. He turned to the negative look of the parent, almost scrutinizing the resemblance between her and her son. The shared green eyes and brown hair interfered on her son's complete resemblance to his father. If it wasn't for those features, he would've been a perfect carbon copy.

"I'm ... sorry to hear that. Is there any specific area that I'm lacking in? If so, I am pleased to be informed for the benefit of my students."

The woman scrunched her nose a bit before shaking her head. "No, it's more of a general area, if not, something that should have been considered highly of since the beginning of the year. Hiyama-san, are you aware of the seating arrangements of the students in Class B overall?" She crossed her legs, leaning on the desk with a conflicted look. "Let me rephrase that. Are you aware of the seating arrangements of the school overall?"

"Yes," Hiyama said, knowing where this was all going. He glanced at the headmaster as if asking _him _the question. The older man smiled pleasantly and nodded, confirming that he knew of the seating arrangements. Of course what kind of headmaster would he be if he didn't check on his own school? "However, I've acquired little to no complaints concerning that. I assumed it was fine or did you have some personal reference?"

Her sharp green eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you know of the three special students in Class B-3. Furthermore the special students honored to be in the same school as my child. What I'm concerned about is if you realize what you're doing is beyond the line. Knowing my son is in the same class as one of those _Nefas_ is one thing, but seeing them so close to him is dangerously close to offense against this nation itself. I want you to remove the position of that one, at least next to where her own kind should be."

"I'm assuming by 'that one,' you are referring to Yukari?" The woman twitched at the sound of her name. Hiyama turned to raise an eyebrow at the headmaster, deciding that he should intervene at some point. "Is it a crime to teach a little girl? Much less have her seated next to her peers?"

The woman sat up, not letting the headmaster even open his mouth to speak. "You are purposely forgetting the fact that she is one of _them_. You know how they are meant to be treated. It is the law, and by the look of your actions, you are at the edge of crossing that fine line of treason."

"Hisamatsu-san," The headmaster stopped her before dropping that usual smile of his. "I mean you no disrespect when I say this, but this is a 'mixed' school. I thought you were aware of that fact when you signed your child here, _second_ highest ranked school, one of three mixed schools in the entire district. Do not forget the fact that the highest ranking school is _not_ mixed and completely prevents the intrusion of Nefas. I recommend this fact to be upheld in your argument."

She pursed her lips, "That does not mean–"

"If I may." Hiyama interrupted, politely dipping his head towards his superior. "Will you give me the reason as to why your son is here in the first place? The son of the commissioner-general of Epsilon deserves to be placed in the highest ranking school, the best of the best, not the second."

"That is not only out of line, Hiyama Kiyoteru, that could also–"

"Please, answer the question, Hisamatsu-san. Hiyama is known for his straightforward attitude. I'm sure he didn't mean any offense."

The beautiful woman lost her composure for a moment, but it was brought back in the next. She coldly glanced at the teacher, uncrossing her legs and giving the perfect posture of a refined lady. Her long, brown hair barely covered the corner of her right eye, something that indicated where her son's current hairstyle came from.

She folded her hands as she answered in that low, charismatic voice of hers. "My husband recommended Daichi to be placed in this school specifically for the reason of his own position. He claimed that his only son and heir should grow accustomed to the presence of our enemies. We shouldn't fear monsters. It would be utterly shameful when our true purpose is to hunt and destroy them.

_"They_ should fear us."

Hiyama was silent. The only sound in the room was the vague sound of the children and even that was not welcomed.

It was uncanny. The looks they were giving him. Hiyama wasn't sure how to respond to that and based on their own silence, they didn't know either. It was just an unspoken rule from the adults, and they were dancing on the edge, finally falling when the wife of a police officer quoted the very words of hatred. The ones that now everyone wanted to say and take pride in, the ones that would shatter an innocent civilian's soul. Not the heart, the soul: their pride, their will, their very existence.

It was something that shouldn't be said, but here they were, saying it in a primary school of future scholars.

Saying it in a school of children.

The man relished the fact that the light reflected his glasses because from that glint, it can conceal the troubled emotions stirring within. He felt almost powerless next to these figures.

The headmaster was a gentleman. He never acted out from his emotions, something that was now rare to see. He put on a mask, but it was better than nothing. The older man didn't look wise however, in fact, he just looked strategic. When he didn't give small, polite smiles in front for the school, he would give arrogant smirks. The way he put his clothes gave away his personality. Laid-back, calm, rich. Those were the words. He was someone who thought ahead, someone who thought over his words and organized his emotions in order to get what he wants. The grey hair of his wasn't lost, and he took advantage by combing it in a sophisticated way. The suit didn't come with the tie, and the lavender shirt was not buttoned at the top three.

The woman, the wife of the highest ranking chief, the mother of the heir, was the perfect lady. She was taught to be graceful, to never lose that smiling face of hers. If not smiling, indifferent, because you don't want to see a weak woman, you want to see someone strong. Her hands were far from dainty, but her overall figure can deceive that head-strong ambition of hers. The black pleated skirt and white blouse just emphasized that she meant business.

And Hiyama Kiyoteru was just a teacher. Nothing more, nothing less. A teacher of kids that are not even older than ten, yet are judged by something they can't control. They are judged the second they were born and treated as if they should be tamed. They were not children in their eyes, they were animals.

They were children who were still dependent. Children who still didn't know right from wrong. Children who still believed in the words of adults because who else would guide them?

Which one was the right one?

The woman cleared her throat. "Keep them where they should be. I do not want it near my son. Besides the law discourages relationships between monster and human. Even if we didn't have such laws, we would still discourage it, yes?"

The headmaster didn't reply. Instead, he looked at Hiyama with intense grey eyes as if he expected him to disagree.

Hiyama though, he didn't disagree.

He didn't agree either.

"There are rumors." The woman finally said, breaking the silence and ignoring their lack of response. "Two in fact. One is personal, the other is public. I'll start with the public one." Neither of them stopped her. "Since the beginning, we experimented on Nefas. They were never born, nor did they appear just randomly, we all know where they came from, and we are afraid that we can't destroy that place simply for the fact that we have no idea of the consequences.

"We all also know the basic characteristics of this species. Color. Abnormal colors. Their hair, their eyes, even their lack of color is not normal. Humans do not have _blue_ hair, humans do not have _silver_ eyes. We stick to the traditional colors, noting that none of them are out of the ordinary. It is normal for us to have green and blue eyes. But that is it. Hazel yes. Black yes. But if there is someone with red eyes like a demon, you should automatically call that a predator.

"So what if they evolve? What if they start adapting to their environment? You know survival of the fittest forces things to do so." She gave a pointed look at Hiyama, green eyes relaxing yet still maintaining that pressuring air. "What better way than to camouflage?"

Hiyama sat still. Not even the slightest movement could be detected. It was a feat, really, to actually keep this facade of his when really he only wanted to stand up and dismiss himself.

Are they really doing this?

Anyone can come in this moment. Anyone at all, even her own son, but according to her, that would just make her favor the situation even more.

The headmaster chuckled. "As expected from a lawyer."

The woman gave a stiff smile. "I'm not the best, but I am a mother."

"Would it please you if I inform you of this week's schedule? This time the king's special forces are inspecting the school early, so if they find something amiss, they will correct it for the safety of the children. Your son will highly be favored over the others, I'm sure."

This time her smile became less forceful. "I would sincerely appreciate that, thank you."

After that, she was dismissed with the best end of the spectrum. Hiyama was left alone facing the headmaster who seemed oddly pleased with the outcome as well.

Hiyama bit back his tongue. It wouldn't do good to reprimand their actions. He was out of place. He didn't have the proper position to say anything, much less _scold_ his superiors.

But he couldn't help but feel this bitter feeling swell in his chest.

Favoritism. That's what it was. The wife of a high ranking police officer had an advantage and she knew it. Her reasoning was only amplified because of her occupation and determination as a mother. The headmaster had many reasons to gain the benefit of having her on her good side. But really, when it all came down to it, it was eerily simple.

It all came down to bloodlines, even for the world's most despised species.

"I never told you the second rumor, did I?" Hisamatsu said, opening the door with a dissatisfied glance. The teacher didn't even bother to turn around, even if it was deemed rude and he would probably be looked down upon later on. But at that time, he didn't seem to care about what he was doing anymore, not in front of these two. Especially not in front of these two.

If Hisamatsu disapproved this, she didn't seem to show it. Instead she continued on with that same amused yet sardonic tone that grated his nerves. "It seems Daichi has a best friend. Isn't that wonderful?"

His fisted hand twitched noticeably.

As soon as the door closed, the headmaster glanced at Hiyama before looking out the closed window. The lines of sunlight escaping the blinds added to the dark edge hidden behind the headmaster's statement, but Hiyama wasn't affected in the slightest.

"She claims that she isn't the best, but she's one of the best. That's what makes her so dangerous."

Because he couldn't help but agree. That's why he didn't feel that chill that others would feel. That's why he wasn't feeling so shameful from his earlier actions.

The older man released a long breath, combing his gelled hair with his wrinkled yet firm fingers. "The early inspection wasn't just a suggestion of conviction, Hiyama. I'm afraid that it'll be a necessary act that we have to take. The rumors that Hisamatsu-san confirmed are crucial, something that shouldn't be left aside just for one person. It's a matter of more than a hundred students with great potential for the future generation. You understand, right?"

Hiyama didn't nod nor did he shake his head. "What's the real reason to the change of schedule?"

The man knew how the system worked. He knew, but there was something that filled his mind with dread when Brunhilda's voice suddenly started clouding his thoughts and raising his doubts. She tries to tell him something, but she couldn't afford to directly tell him. Something was preventing her, and the teacher didn't know. All he knew was that it involved Yukari.

The little girl with the strangest of quirks. The same one that Hisamatsu was wary of.

That phone call that he received last week didn't make sense.

It didn't make sense at all.

Yet...

The headmaster's voice made the feeling sink in like a bomb. "They're drawing blood this time. Apparently, they wanted it to be held at random. Isn't that great, Hiyama?" The older man said, voice drawling unnecessarily. "Not only does it protect the students, it benefits the country. Imagine all of those hidden bastards caught red-handed. Do they really think they can outsmart us?" He scoffed. "Just imagine this as the first step. Next thing, you know, we have them all captured."

"This is a mixed school, headmaster." Hiyama pointed out, eyes trying to meet his. If one would look a little closer, one would see the silent rage burning in them. "Of course there would be Nefas. What would be the point of drawing their blood as well when we could clearly–"

"Yukari, Hiyama-san." He replied, as if that answered everything. "She's a beautiful child, isn't she? Unfortunately, she's not like Kaai Yuki. And even that girl is too perfect."

Kaai Yuki. He had to mention her, didn't he? Another orphan from Neo, brown eyes as big as Yukari's, black hair in low pigtails, sweet personality, innocent and incredibly naive yet mischievous. How that mixed together, he would never know.

She was suspected of being a Nefa, the only one in Class A, because of her origin. The fact that she lived in an orphanage with half of them being Nefas just sabotaged her reputation, yet she was still seen as the perfect, obedient child. There was even a time where troublemaker Yukari followed her example of being perfect. That period of time didn't last long though.

Whereas Yuki was more believable of being human and favored as well, no one didn't go far in their suspicion of her bloodline.

Yukari however was greatly suspected. Not only was she a colorless girl, her ambition was unknown. She didn't act like a child according to the others, and her records of foster homes was a long list since day one.

"Neo is a terrible orphanage, isn't it?" The headmaster muttered to himself. "Mixing them like that, honestly, it's like asking for the poor orphans to be abandoned. There's no way that anyone would adopt a child corrupted by a _Nefa_ of all things." He said in disgust, as if the word burned his tongue. "And they're both from it, so nothing else can be done. Thankfully we separate them and instruct the students about them, not to mention discipline those in that 'class.' This school just brings them to our expectations, and if it doesn't, I'll make sure of it."

The older man grinned, displaying another side of himself other than the composed gentleman. He didn't even notice Hiyama's silence, in fact it seemed like he reveled in it by gloating.

"Mirai no Kishi will bring out their resolve, their true concept of reality. Isn't that right, Hiyama-san?"

The man lifted his glasses. "I hope so."

"Ah yes, I forgot to mention something else before I dismiss you." He stated, gesturing Hiyama to prepare to leave as he walked over to his side. Hiyama straightened up and stood from his seat, his face the perfect definition of indifferent. "It's just a reminder, in fact, I think I should announce this to the others on the day of the inspection."

The two didn't speed up nor slow down to their walk towards the door. It was just a casual and friendly walk between coworkers, something that gave Hiyama an uneasy feeling that he tried to conceal. The headmaster even opened the door for the teacher of Class B-3, smiling as if he found a gold mine.

"Students aren't the only ones being inspected."

The door silently closed behind his back.

* * *

"Kiyoteru-san?"

Hiyama held his breath at the sound of his name. It almost sounded foreign when he heard it, as if it was never meant to be there. He swore that he found himself confused when it came from the other side of the line.

"Brunhilda-san, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

The sound of her laughter and the light tone of his voice made him insecure. Was that really him? No, more like, did the woman actually laugh? It was such a hard thing to grasp that he almost stumbled in his own household, looking cautiously for any intruders or spies.

There was none of course. It was just his paranoia all over again.

"Such formalities make me think you're hiding something." She replied in a teasing tone.

"Now why would I do such a thing?" He caught himself closing the curtains. "It's rude to cover the truth from the guardian of my student."

"How is she by the way? I heard she caused quite an outburst during this _special _day."

He waited for the indignant protest of the girl. Yukari was always like that, the nosy child would sneak beside the caretaker whenever she took a phone call. She claimed she was bored and wanted to use it as well, but ever since the pranking days, she was kept under surveillance each time she used it, making it no fun for the girl.

So she chose the next best thing. Pay back mirroring, she called it. Ever since then, there was no privacy in that orphanage. Brunhilda gave up and let her stand closer to the phone while she talked, and the girl would sneak in comments. They were always inappropriate, but Hiyama knew that Brunhilda found them more amusing than disrespectful.

Especially when they talking about her in the first place.

But this time, he didn't hear anything.

"She's different."

The line was silent before she gave him a reply in a stiff, concerned voice. "She still hasn't come out of her room."

Hiyama didn't understand.

" 'Remember what I told you.' That's what he said. And yet I failed, Kiyoteru-san, miserably so. She won't even eat in the same room as the others. She would barely say a word. What's making it worse is that she won't confide in Yuki either, and you know how she is with her. The girl's practically her sister."

He didn't understand at all.

"She's acting like a normal child."

"No. That isn't what a normal child does. A normal child would talk, maybe cry, but she's silent. _Literally_ silent. Do you know the reason why? Because she's not normal. Because, as they put it, 'she doesn't meet their standards.' Now she won't even speak because of their words. You see it, don't you? Surely someone of your intelligence can see what's happening, Kiyoteru-san?"

"She's talking." He commented weakly.

Really, it didn't make sense.

"No. She's not." She argued sternly. "She's not talking, Kiyoteru-san."

He numbly sat on his couch, eyes drooping, head falling. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees to support his upper body. The sting of his headache was getting worse, but it wasn't because of the stress. Or maybe it was and he was just blaming it on something else again.

He reached for the remote.

"Did you talk to her like I requested?"

He wanted to groan when the static of the television attacked his eardrums and blurry sight. "I apologize, but I didn't get anything but typical offers. She just wanted to draw with me, and it seems she doesn't want to talk about the orphanage. She changes the subject as soon as it comes."

"What else?"

He pushed the button.

"Well, she confessed on going to the other side of the playground again."

"–A-hah! Another mystery solved if I do say so–"

Click.

"Naturally! Because I am..."

"–it matter?"

"Now releasing her new song: Love is War!"

Despite all the distractions, Hiyama knew what she asked. "That area is strictly off limits."

"..."

"I know how you feel, Brunhilda-san, but that's just how the system works. Not only is it confidential, it's dangerous. A little girl like her shouldn't take one step on that land even if it is for the request of her friend."

"I didn't ask about whether it was confidential." She snapped. "I asked if it was fair. Give it some reason. The girl is innocent."

"The place is terrible. Causalities _everywhere_. Who knew these creatures would go so far to even hurt their own kind?"

"You don't get it..." Brunhilda whispered gently. "Do you?"

Hiyama massaged his temples, looking at the screen with apprehension.

A man showed up with a microphone in hand. Half of the screen split up to display a woman with the background of debris.

"What's your analysis?"

"Analysis? You don't even need one! I'm honestly terrified to even _be_ here!"

"What is she saying?"

Hiyama saw the pieces of flesh under the destroyed parts of a plane. He intently watched the screen as the cameras closed in on the disaster. He silently wondered how exactly they were going to do it...

"She asked about the purpose of our history class. I didn't think she would ask that kind of question, it makes me realize that she really is a child, huh?"

"Seems like the rumors are true. They are starting to advance to offense, even lowering themselves into ruthless methods."

"You know, if they're tying to convince us that they aren't monsters... It isn't really working, is it?"

...to switch their views...

"She was getting uncomfortable when the parents basically intimidated her into not speaking, so maybe she's trying to put up a brave front."

Brunhilda made a sound of disagreement. "Focus on the words, not the actions."

"So give me numbers! Details! We all deserve to know. This concerns our safety, the reason behind our choices. What have they done?"

The woman's face lost her smile when he stated this. Nonetheless, she reported her findings, her face losing color with each word.

"...involved a train, a bus, and a plane. As for casualties: 12,315 injured, 478 dead. All innocent..."

...to blame it on _them_...

"What did she say?"

Hiyama's brown eyes narrowed when he saw their broken bodies. Their skin was torn apart, burnt, and completely irreparable. He could almost see the white skull showing up from a child's head. The sight sickened him, the thought of showing this to the public eye made him swallow the bile in his throat.

...to feel nothing from what they've done...

"...as for what caused all of this–"

But Hiyama couldn't bring himself to hate them. Because deep down, he knew what this was about. He knew, but he couldn't bring himself to accept.

Then there was 'her.' Why was she like this? Why did it _suddenly _make sense?

"–the sudden ignition of bombs. Three of them."

Hiyama dropped the remote and buried his face in his hand, trembling when he heard the faint sound of giggling.

"She kept saying 'boom'."

* * *

_...what's the lesson..._

* * *

**A/N: **Names are referred to as such: Last First. The honorifics: **-chan** is generally used for things the speaker finds endearing, like children, family, close friends, cute things, etc. **-sensei **or just **Sensei** alone, is a term used for teachers, instructors, etc. I think I already covered the others in the last chapter, if not, then oh well -.-

Yes, I know, I kept saying Kiyoteru as Hiyama, I assure you I know which is his first and last name, but that's how they all see him there, so I want you guys to see it in their perspective. You can't just automatically call them by their first name, that's just rude. Yukari, however, is an exception, considering she's an orphan and doesn't officially have a last name(yet). Why does Yuki have one even though she's an orphan? Well you just have to wait and see :}

So how was the perspective of her teacher? How one acts at school and at home is different for all of us, but did Yukari act suspicious to you guys? Or was she just her witty cute self again? Hmm...

P.S: Has anyone read my poem, _Eclipse_? It seems so neglected even if it's a preview of this story T.T


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